Chapter Two

No Sanctuary in the Past

Flathead National Forest

People are like leaves, they spend an age in peace, and sanctuary, in the arms of their tree, before they fall. No matter how far it travels, no matter how hard it dances in the air, as it tries to break free of its fate, the ground always comes. People are like leaves, one significant event can change their world forever, and the only way out, lays in the depths.

I have fallen into the depths of my nightmare, and the only way out is down.

I ran, just like before, so long ago. Through the dark winding trees, as they clawed and pulled at me, I made my way. I didn't care for the peace of the forest; all I wanted was the warm glow of Tom's front steps.

Wild flowers framed my path; they looked beautiful in the pale moonlight, like a source of peace where there was only dark. For a time I followed the passageway through the trees, like a plane following the runway lights home.

From time to time, I would notice a faint, blurred shape in the depths of the forest, following, silent in the night.

After a while, I broke through the tree line, onto Seville Lane which led into Coram. For a while I stood there, on the threshold of that manmade convenience, and I wondered. Is this what I really want?

An old people carrier went past, honking its wheezing horn, the people inside were laughing, playing around, scattering broken beer bottles like bread crumbs, rap radiated out, muffled by the car's steel armour.

For a while I stood there, not sure of what I wanted. Should I return to the monotonous, unsatisfying life that is the world of man? Or should I delve deeper into that nightmare, where nothing made sense, but that didn't matter, because I felt alive?

If I dived deeper into my past, would I ever come up for air?

Remember Hanna my girl, street lamps, and manmade roads will always be a beacon back home.

A vague flashback of a time so long ago, when my father was alive, and everything was good.

I had lost my way back then, and my father had found me. But now he was gone, and only his words gave me the strength to go on.

Stepping onto the pebble dashed lane, I made my way. Out of the nightmare, and hopefully out of the reaches of the silhouette.

I hurried down the lane till lights appeared in the distance, and I felt myself relax.

In the distance, a lone street lamp lighted the Glacier Grill and pizza restaurant.

Darkness shows the world in different shades of grey, and colour seeps out of anything it touches. So as I looked out over that house of food, standing there, in full colour, I marvelled. The scene looked as if it was painted, with the artist throwing colour at a black and white painting.

Gravel crunching under my steel capped boots, I moved forward, into the light.

As I entered the glare of the lamp, colour enveloped me. The green shades of my combats, my brown shoes, and my arms which were covered in cuts and bruises, rich, rivets of blood flowed down my arms, and the bruises were purple. I marvelled at myself, like one does a painting, before I looked out over the landscape.

Nothing remained. The world had seemed to have disappeared into the darkness.

A sense of dread took hold, as if I had not left the nightmare behind. I felt like the nightmare had followed me here, as if it was waiting to strike.

A presence lingered in the shadows, just beyond the light, like it was waiting. But why did it hesitate?

'Who is there?' I shouted. 'Show yourself!'

I waited, and waited, the only sound was my breath, ragged, shallow.

After a few minutes, I started to doubt myself.

You look like an idiot, I told myself. There's nothing out th-'

Crunch

A footstep fell, at the edge of the darkness, on the fringes of the light; I saw the faint flicker of a shadow.

I screamed.

Falling backwards, my left elbow cushioned the fall; the shock of the fall knocked away my breath.

Scrambling backwards, I whimpered, as I saw a shoe enter the light, slowly, as if the owner was testing the light, taking its time.

Suddenly, a burst of voices came from Glacier Grill, as the customers came barrelling out of the door, over to her, asking if she was okay.

As they enveloped me with their concern, I glanced back at the darkness, the shoe was gone.

After spending what seemed like forever with the concerned customers and police whom turned up later, I eventually got a ride home.

Tom was furious.

'What did you think you were doing?' He shouted, but when I didn't respond, he gave up, and hugged me.

'Don't ever do that to me again,' he commanded.

After Tom went to bed, I sat there on the couch, in the silence hands wrapped around my legs, in the dark.

As I stayed there, in my pyjamas, I remembered the feeling.

Fear, primal, terrifying, and complete, had taken hold. But for some reason that I couldn't even begin to imagine, I had felt alive. Like being in the presence of my father's murderer, the monster of my dreams, was the only thing that made sense any more.

Here in the safeness of my house, I felt empty, alone, unfinished, like a story without an ending.

The pretty pink plasters on my arms didn't make sense anymore.

I only craved the scent of musky leather, and its voice. The monster had sounded so beautiful, so sadistic, as it uttered in that foreign tongue.

I felt my fear slowly changing, infecting me, rotted away the girl I had been. I was addicted, I craved its presence, I felt a seed of darkness germinate within, growing, feeding. It was too much, I needed it, I wanted it.

That night, I welcomed my nightmares. The next day, I decided to find them.